GENERAL EUROPEAN AFFAIRS
[Illustration: "New Crowns for Old."
Disraeli offering Victoria the Imperial crown of India.]
Punch, however, is really the most satisfactory and comprehensive
source for the history of political caricature during the years
following the siege of Paris down to 1886. From the indefatigable
pencil of Tenniel and Sambourne we get an exhaustive and pungent
record of the whole period of Disraeli's ascendency, the fruits of his
much-criticised foreign policy, England's attitude regarding the Suez
Canal, her share in the Turco-Russian conflict, her acquisition of the
island of Cyprus, the fall of Khartoum, the Fenian difficulties of
1885, and the history of Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule policy.
[Illustration: "Tightening the Grip."]
Throughout the cartoons of this period there is no one figure which
appears with more persistent regularity than that of Lord
Beaconsfield, and with scarcely an exception he is uniformly treated
with an air of indulgent contempt. Of course, his strongly marked
features, the unmistakably Semitic cast of nose and lips, the closely
curled black ringlets clustering above his ears, all offered
irresistible temptation to the cartoonist, with the result that
throughout the entire series, in whatever guise he is portrayed, the
suggestion of charlatan, of necromancer, of mountebank, of one kind or
another of the endless genus "fake," is never wholly absent. Even in
Tenniel's cartoon, "New Crowns for Old," which commemorates the
passage of the Royal Titles Bill, conferring upon the Queen the title
of Empress of India, the scene is confessedly adapted from Aladdin,
and "Dizzy" is portrayed as a slippery Oriental with an oily smile, in
the act of trading a gaudy-looking piece of tinsel headgear for the
more modest, but genuine, regal crown topped with the cross of Malta.
The bestowal of the title of Earl of Beaconsfield upon Mr. Disraeli,
which followed within a very few weeks, was too good a chance for
satire for Mr. Tenniel to let pass, and he hit it off in a page
entitled "One Good Turn Deserves Another," in which Victoria, with the
Imperial crown of India upon her head, is conferring a coronet upon
"Dizzy," kneeling obsequiously at her feet.
[Illustration: AEolus--Ruler of the Storms. The Easterly Wind too much
for Bismarck.]
[Illustration: "L'Etat C'est Moi!"]
At this time the one international question which bade fair to assume
any considerable importance was that of Russia's attitude in the
Balkan peninsula. Already in June, 1886, we find _Punch_ portraying
the Czar of Russia as a master of the hounds, just ready to let slip
the leash from his "dogs of war." Servia, Montenegro, Bosnia, and
Herzegovina, in pursuit of the unsuspecting Sultan of Turkey, while
John Bull in the guise of a policeman, is cautiously peering from
behind a fence, evidently wondering whether this is a case which calls
for active interference. It is only a few days later that the outbreak
of an insurrection in Bosnia and Herzegovina hastens a decision on the
part of Europe to "keep the Ring" and let the Sultan ward off the
"dogs of war" single-handed--an incident duly commemorated in _Punch_
on June 19. The Turkish atrocities in Bulgaria, however, aroused
public sentiment throughout the Continent to such a degree that the
Powers united in demanding an armistice. Tenniel's interpretation of
this incident takes the form of a sick-chamber, in which the Sick Man
of Europe is surrounded by a corps of illustrious physicians, Drs.
Bull, William I., Francis Joseph and Company, who are firmly
insisting that their patient shall swallow a huge pill labeled
"Armistice"--"or else there's no knowing what might happen!" The
protocol on Turkish affairs which soon after this was proposed by
Russia and supported by Disraeli, forms the subject of two suggestive
cartoons in _Punch_. The first, entitled "Pons Asinorum," depicts the
protocol as a make-shift bridge supported on the docile shoulders of
John Bull and the other European Powers, and spanning a lagoon
entitled "Eastern Question." Over this bridge the Russian bear is
stealthily crawling to his desired goal, his eye half closed in a sly
wink, his sides bristling like a veritable arsenal with weapons. The
second cartoon, alluding to the Porte's rejection of the protocol,
represents Disraeli looking disconsolately upon a smoldering pile of
powder kegs and ammunition, over which he has placed the protocol,
twisted into the shape of a candle-snuffer. "Confound the thing! It is
all ablaze!" he ejaculates, while Lord Hartington reminds him, "Ah, my
dear D., paper will burn, you know!"
[Illustration: The Hidden Hand.]
[Illustration: The Irish Frankenstein.]
The next significant caricature in the _Punch_ series belongs to the
period of actual hostilities between Turkey and Russia, after Plevna
had been completely invested and the Turks were at all points being
steadily beaten back. This caricature, entitled "Tightening the Grip,"
showing the struggling Turk being slowly crushed to death in the
relentless hug of the gigantic bear, may safely be left to speak for
itself without further description. Meanwhile, England was watching
with growing disquiet Russia's actions in the Balkans. In one cartoon
of this period, Mr. Bull is bluntly refusing to be drawn into a game
of "Blind Hookey" with the other European Powers. "Now then, Mr. Bull,
we're only waiting for you," says Russia; and John Bull rejoins:
"Thank you, I don't like the game. I like to see the cards!" Prince
Bismarck at this time was doing his best to bring about an
understanding between England and Russia, but the difficulties of the
situation threatened to prove too much even for that veteran diplomat.
_Punch_ cleverly hit off the situation by representing Bismarck AEolus,
the wind-god, struggling desperately with an unmanageable wind-bag,
which is swelling threateningly in the direction of the East and
assuming the form of a dangerous war-cloud. Eventually all
misunderstandings were peacefully smoothed away at the Berlin
Congress, which Tenniel commemorates with a cartoon showing "Dizzy" in
the guise of a tight-rope performer triumphantly carrying the Sultan
on his shoulders along a rope labeled "Congress," his inherent
double-dealing being suggested by his balancing pole, which he sways
back and forth indifferently, and the opposite ends of which are
labeled "peace" and "war."
[Illustration: The Daring Duckling. June, 1883.
An early appearance of Mr. Chamberlain in caricature.]
Comparatively few cartoons of this period touch upon American
matters. All the more noteworthy is the one which Mr. Tenniel
dedicated to the memory of President Garfield at the time of the
latter's assassination. It is a worthy example of the artist's most
serious manner, at once dignified and impressive. It bears the
inscription, "A Common Sorrow," and shows a weeping Columbia clasped
closely in the arms of a sorrowing and sympathetic Britannia.
[Illustration: Settling the Alabama Claims.]
M. Gambetta seldom received attention at the hands of English
caricaturists; but in 1881, when the resignation of Jules Ferry and
his colleagues resulted in the formation of a new ministry with
Gambetta at the head, and both English and German newspapers were
sarcastically saying that "the Gambetta Cabinet represented only
himself," _Punch_ had to have his little fling at the French
statesman, portraying him as beaming with self-complacence, and
striking an attitude in front of a statue of Louis XIV., while he
echoes the latter's famous dictum, "L'Etat c'est moi!"
[Illustration: _Mirage._
Gordon Waiting at Khartoum.]
Two cartoons which tell their own story are devoted to Fenianism. The
first commemorates the Phoenix Park outrage in which Lord Frederick
Cavendish, the newly appointed Chief Secretary, lost his life. The
cartoon is called "The Irish Frankenstein," and is certainly baleful
enough to do full justice to the hideousness of the crime it is
intended to symbolize. The second cartoon, entitled "The Hidden Hand,"
shows the Fenian monster receiving a bag of gold from a mysterious
hand stretched from behind a curtain. The reference is to a supposed
inner circle of assassins, directed and paid by greater villains who
kept themselves carefully behind the scenes.
The tragedy of Khartoum formed the subject of several grim and
forceful pages. "Mirage" was almost prophetic in its conception,
representing General Gordon gazing across the desert, where, by the
tantalizing refraction of the air, he can plainly see the advancing
British hosts, which in reality are destined to arrive too late. "Too
late," in fact, are the very words which serve as a caption of the
next cartoon. Khartoum has fallen, and Britannia, having come upon a
fruitless mission, stands a picture of despair, her face buried upon
her arm, her useless shield lying neglected upon the ground.